


A Kernel Of Truth...

by mp3_1415player



Category: Parahumans Series - Wildbow
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:28:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26332642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mp3_1415player/pseuds/mp3_1415player
Summary: A long time ago, in a city filled with oddities, no one realized just how odd some of those oddities were...Actually, it wasn't all that long ago, but it was still very odd.Of course it was, Taylor Hebert was involved!(Another story that started as a one-shot and sort of... grew)
Comments: 33
Kudos: 139





	1. The Thing In The Closet...

_ This is where is started, as a one-shot from nowhere. Things slightly grew after that... :) _

_ Where it will end, I can't say yet. But I'm sure we will eventually find out. _

* * *

  
The sound of a creaking floorboard just outside the bedroom made Danny look up from his book. His wife Annette glanced at him, pausing in the writing she was doing in an elegant hand with a fountain pen in one of her ever-present notebooks, then followed his eyes as their door slowly swung open.  
  
Revealed in the doorway was a six year old girl, large green eyes blinking at them under messy curly black hair that was identical to if somewhat shorter than Annette’s own. She was dressed in deep blue pajamas covered in various mathematical symbols, something she’d picked out herself at the store because ‘ _they looked so cool._ ’ Clutched in her hands was a stuffed figure that her grandmother had given her at her christening, something that had been a constant companion her entire life. The huge yellow eyes of the little doll almost glowed in the reflected illumination from the bedside lights.  
  
Danny smiled at his daughter. “It’s late, Taylor, you should be asleep. What’s wrong?”  
  
“The monster in the closet is keeping me awake,” the girl said quietly, entering the room and climbing up onto the bed between them, then snuggling back into the pillows. “He keeps growling.”  
  
“I see.” Danny looked at Annette who was fighting a small smile as she looked fondly at the girl. His wife put out a hand and ran it through Taylor's hair, causing their daughter to smile. “That’s rude of him.”  
  
“That’s what _I_ said,” she complained, hugging her doll harder, making the tentacles move. “But then he laughed and said he didn’t care.”  
  
“Ah. How unfortunate.”  
  
“I told him you’d get angry and beat him up, but he just laughed again.”  
  
With a sidelong glance at his wife, who was silently giggling now, Danny sighed faintly but in a good natured manner. “Did you, now? You know I try very hard to control my temper and so should you. Beating people up isn’t really the best approach.”  
  
She looked up at him, one hand running over the dolls head and down its beak. “But it works, Dad, I know that.”  
  
Putting his hand on hers, he quietly said, “It _can_ work, dear. It can also make things much worse. It’s best not to resort to violence unless there’s no other way.”  
  
“I just want him to shut up,” she grumbled, pouting. “I think he’s new or he’d be more polite after last time.”  
  
“I suppose that’s possible,” Annette said soothingly. “Or it might all be your imagination. We do remember the time you said the monster under your bed was stealing your socks, don’t we?”  
  
Taylor scowled. “That was mean. It was the dryer monster trying to get the bed monster in trouble.”  
  
Danny did his best not to laugh, as the expression of annoyance on such a young face was really rather hilarious. And much cuter than you’d think plausible.  
  
“Sometimes monsters don’t always work together, Taylor,” he said after he’d suppressed his snicker, speaking calmly and quietly. “And sometimes monsters aren’t bad, never forget that. Some are, some aren’t, and you have to be careful not to let your own feelings lead you to the wrong conclusion. Which is why beating people up isn’t a good idea, at least without trying more peaceful things first.”  
  
“It’s always better to talk things through when possible than jump immediately to violence,” his wife added softly. Taylor looked up at both of them in turn, her eyes searching their faces. He could see she was thinking carefully.  
  
“But if they’re still mean we can jump to violence then?” she queried after a few seconds.  
  
He looked at her earnest face, then at Annette, the woman clearly doing her best not to burst out laughing like an idiot and leaving him to work out how to extricate himself from this. Giving her the evil eye, which only made her expression more mischievous, he returned his attention to Taylor. “Only if talking doesn’t work, and nothing else will, Taylor.”  
  
“OK,” she said, smiling at him. She bent her head over her doll, her long hair shrouding both of them for a while, and he could hear faint whispering from under the curly mass. Eventually she surfaced and said, “Thuley thinks you’re right, but says that sometimes an example must be made.”  
  
Annette snorted with hilarity, clapping a hand over her mouth to keep it in, but her eyes were twinkling. Danny smiled, ruffling Taylor’s hair.  
  
“He may be correct. _Sometimes_ you can prevent something worse happening if you act quickly. But again, that can go badly wrong, so you need to learn how to do things correctly,” he told her.  
  
“I think I understand, Dad,” she nodded, her expressive mouth curving up into a small smile. “So I should talk to him and ask him politely to stop growling?”  
  
“That is probably the best thing to do, yes, dear,” he responded.  
  
“And if he laughs again and still doesn’t stop, _then_ I break his kneecaps?” Her face was screwed up in careful thought.  
  
He sighed, rubbing his forehead, while Annette dissolved into giggles.  
  
“That is… not _quite_ what I meant, Taylor,” he sighed. “And it’s kind of a big escalation. Going right from a polite request to a beating is… excessive.”  
  
“Oh.” She bent over the doll again. More whispering happened. She nodded a couple of times, the curly hair moving, until her eyes came up once more. “I should ask him politely, then if he’s still rude, I _threaten_ to break his kneecaps,” she announced triumphantly. Looking down at the doll, she frowned. “No, I threaten to break his _wife’s_ kneecaps. _Then_ his.”  
  
“Oh, lord,” he murmured as he laid his head back against the pillow. His wife’s constant giggling was becoming just the _tiniest_ bit annoying…  
  
“I would suggest talking first, Taylor,” he advised after a moment. “Leave the threats of violence for a last resort, along with actual violence.”  
  
The young girl slumped back on the bed and sighed loudly. “All I want is for him to shut up so I can get some sleep,” she grouched. Giving him a put-upon look, she added, “Monsters are _so_ annoying sometimes.”  
  
“Life is like that, dear,” he said, patting her head fondly. “Now why don’t you go back to your room, ask the closet monster very politely to stop growling, and get some sleep? Emma’s coming over tomorrow and you don’t want to be too tired from being up all night.”  
  
She nodded, hugging her doll as she scrambled off the end of the bed, then smiled at them both. “OK, Dad. Night, Mom.”  
  
“Good night, Taylor,” Annette said, smiling. “Sleep well.”  
  
“I will if I can get him to shut up,” their daughter mumbled sleepily as she left the room, pulling the door shut behind her. Moments later they heard her bedroom door also shut, and shortly after that her voice faintly but authoritatively saying, “Dad told me to ask you to stop growling.”  
  
Both exchanged glances then started chuckling.  
  
“No, it’s rude to growl at people in the middle of the night. Bob doesn’t growl at me. He’s nice. And I’m sorry I blamed him for eating my socks.”  
  
There was a long pause.  
  
“I know, Bob, Mike was really mean. I told him that. It wasn’t your fault.”  
“No, you need to stop growling right now, cause I need to go to bed. It’s late.”  
“If you don’t stop growling there will be trouble.”  
“And laughing at me won’t help. Thuley will get mad if you don’t stop and that’s not going to be fun for anyone.”  
  
Husband and wife exchanged looks again.  
  
“You really are new, aren’t you? What happened to Richard?”  
“You’re growling again. Please stop that.”  
  
There was quite a long pause, then the young girl’s voice said with a determined tone, “OK, I was being nice, but if you’re going to keep on growling like a meanie I’m going to have to insist. Stop growling or you won’t like what happens.”  
“Fine. Dad said it was OK to resort to violence if people won’t stop being rude after I ask nicely. Remember, this is your fault. I’ll be right back.”  
  
The door to Taylor’s bedroom creaked again as it opened, then they heard small footsteps. A moment later their door opened once more as well, and Taylor came back in, holding her doll under one arm and with a very stubborn look on her face. “He just laughed at me. And Bob. Bob tried to get him to stop too but he’s a poohead.”  
  
“I’m sorry to hear that, Taylor,” Danny said as he watched her head for the closet on the other side of the bedroom and pull the door open.  
  
“Me too. Thuley said his type doesn’t respond to threats and direct action is the only way to make them learn,” her voice said as she disappeared into the closet. After some rummaging sounds, she reemerged holding his old aluminum baseball bat in her free hand, the thing nearly as long as she was tall. “I’ll bring this back in a couple minutes, OK?”  
  
Stomping out of their bedroom, she vanished again.  
  
Danny looked at Annette, who was staring after their daughter with amused tolerance. “Have we raised her properly, love? Only sometimes I feel that I may have… slightly taught her some things that are not entirely ideal.”  
  
She put her hand on his. “We did a good job, Danny, and she’ll be fine. Don’t worry about Taylor.”  
  
There was a loud metallic ‘ _clang!_ ’ from across the hall, which made both of them wince. “I said stop growling, and I meant it,” Taylor said quite firmly. “You were rude, and now I have to teach you a lesson. So hold still.”  
  
Several more clangs sounded in rapid succession. “I said _hold still!_ Stop squirming. Bob, grab his legs and hold him down, I’ll get his knees!”  
  
A couple more clangs echoed through the house, accompanied by a loud roar that made the room quiver. Danny reached up above his head without looking and straightened the picture that hung over the head of the bed, which had a tendency to go askew sometimes. “Now are you going to be good? Or do I have to go for your head?”  
  
Another clang, this one louder than most of the others.  
  
Another screech of pain. “I warned you. Next time I’ll get angry. Don’t make me angry. And if that doesn’t work I’ll tell dad and you _really_ won’t like what happens then.”  
  
Everything went quiet. Shortly Taylor came back in holding the bat which looked somewhat bent, but wearing a satisfied expression. She stalked across the room, went into the closet, came back out and closed it, and headed for the door. “He’ll be good now,” she assured them.  
  
“Sleep tight, dear,” Danny called as he shook his head fondly.  
  
Annette, who was quivering with giggles again, waved to their daughter, who waved back with a broad smile, then pulled their door shut. The last thing they saw was the reflection of the eyes of her doll which was perched on her head.  
  
Once the sound of Taylor’s door closing reached them, Danny smiled to himself, put his glasses back on, and went back to reading.  
  
“Yeah, I think you’re right, love, she’ll be fine,” he commented, turning the page. “I pity her first boyfriend, though...”


	2. Monsters, too...

Sobbing, the brown haired little girl held her knees and rocked back and forth on the damp ground. She was wet, cold, hungry, and very lost. And very scared too.  
  
In the distance she could hear traffic moving, but the park she was in was mostly empty of people, except at the far end where some swings were, which had a number of kids of several ages playing on them. Several parents were watching them carefully while talking or walking dogs. All normal activities, things she herself didn’t do. Not that she really wanted to but even if she had, there were other problems.  
  
The heavily overgrown corner of the park she’d wormed her way through the bushes to hide in was empty of passers-by, being some distance from the paths, and covered in blackberry brambles which had snagged her clothing and her hair on the way in. It was only her small stature that let her do it at all, and she was covered in dirt as a result. Sniffling, she rubbed her nose with her fist then wiped it on her shirt, wishing she was somewhere else. Somewhere warm, where people didn’t yell at her for no reason.  
  
“Hi!” a completely unexpected and cheery voice suddenly said from behind her, making her squeak in shock and look around. There was another girl about her own age kneeling on the ground there, taller and skinnier, with a gap-toothed grin in a rather grimy face under black curly hair done up in a ponytail. She was wearing a T-shirt with the words “Monsters are cool!” on it in happy blue lettering, a light jacket over the top, and jeans.  
  
“I’m Taylor. What’s wrong?” the girl said, studying her curiously.  
  
The sobbing girl sniffed hard while staring at the other child.  
  
“You look cold. Here.” Taylor said, not waiting for an answer before she pulled the small backpack she was wearing off her back, then took off her coat and held it out to the girl. “Go on, you need it more than I do,” she urged as the other girl gaped at her, somewhat shocked. Eventually she carefully took the offered jacket and put it on over the thin blouse she was wearing, immediately feeling warmer.  
  
“Thank you,” she said in a small voice, her voice hoarse from crying.  
  
Taylor smiled again. “You’re welcome,” she replied, pulling her backpack in front of her and opening it. She rummaged around inside for a few seconds. “You can share my lunch. Mom won’t mind.” Pulling out a bag of chips, she popped it open and handed it to the now rather confused and formerly crying girl, who was gaping at her, somewhat overwhelmed by the aggressively friendly approach. She wiggled the bag enticingly when her new acquaintance hesitated. “They’re nice. I’ve got juice too.”  
  
Very slowly, the first girl reached out and put her hand into the bag, coming back with a handful of potato chips, one of which she tasted, before shoving it into her mouth. Seconds later all that was left were crumbs. “Wow, you _were_ hungry,” Taylor said, her eyes wide and an approving tone in her voice. “Here, take the bag.” She handed it to the other girl, then delved into the backpack again. “Apple or orange?”  
  
“What?” The question was puzzled.  
  
“Juice. You want apple or orange?” Taylor held up two cardboard boxes, one in either hand, shaking each in turn.  
  
“Apple. Please.”  
  
“Sure.” She handed over the relevant box, then pulled the straw off the side of the other one and stuck it through the small foil covering in the top before noisily sucking. Her new acquaintance followed suit, rather less noisily. “Want a sandwich? I’ve got two. Peanut butter or tuna and mayo.”  
  
Shortly both girls were eating, Taylor giving the other girl interested looks now and then. When they finally finished, her new friend started talking. Some time later Taylor was hugging her and looking irritated, although not at her. The other girl was no longer shivering and appeared much less uncomfortable although still upset.  
  
“Meanies,” she growled under her breath. Deciding that her new friend needed something special, she reached into her backpack again and pulled out Thuley, then shoved it into the arms of the startled freckled girl. “Here, he’s really good at cheering people up,” she advised. “Nice people, anyway. Mean ones don’t really like him.”  
  
Her friend, somewhat cautiously, held the little doll and after a while began smiling. Taylor smiled back as she plotted.  
  
 **=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=**  
  
Pausing outside her daughter’s bedroom door, Annette cocked her head and listened. She could hear laughter, in two distinct voices, one of which she recognized and one of which she didn’t. The first was obviously Taylor, but she had no idea who the second was, aside from it not being Emma who would have been the normal candidate. Curious, she pushed the door open a crack and peered in very quietly.  
  
“...and the mean king was beaten by the cool fairy queen, who beat him up a little then punished him for a hundred years, just to make sure he knew that he was very naughty indeed,” Taylor said, waving her arms expressively as she told a story that Annette was quite familiar with although her daughter was, as usual, putting her own spin on it. “Then she freed all the other prisoners and gave them cake. And everyone was really happy. Except for the king of course, but no one cared about him any more. Then she flew away and lived happily ever after.”  
  
The other girl, who was sitting on Taylor’s bed wrapped up in the duvet that normally covered it, giggled, her freckled face alight with interest. Annette studied her, wondering where Taylor had found her and what they were doing. From what she could see the girl was roughly Taylor’s age although somewhat shorter, her face showing signs of having been recently crying. Probably quite a lot if she was any judge. And it was in severe need of a wash too, a streak of mud running up one cheek and another across her forehead. Both hands were filthy as well, giving the impression that the girl had been crawling on the ground or something. Her clothes, from what the woman could see, were unsuitable for the slightly chilly and damp weather, her feet were bare, and when she looked around she couldn’t see any sign of a coat or other outerwear than Taylor’s familiar one, which was tossed on the floor next to her backpack.  
  
The thing that she noted with more surprise than all this was that the unknown girl was hugging Taylor’s doll Thuley to her chest, which was pretty odd. Her daughter didn’t generally let other people hold the little tentacled horror she loved so dearly without trusting them a lot.  
  
Opening the door further, she stepped inside, both girls looking at her, the new one with a suddenly worried expression that quickly closed down. “Hello, Taylor. I see you’ve made a new friend,” she said, keeping her voice light and friendly since she was more than a little worried about how abruptly the other girl’s face and demeanor had changed. She looked positively scared now, and was almost hiding inside the duvet while holding Thuley so tightly that Annette worried she’d pull his head off.  
  
“Hi, Mom,” her daughter chirped. “This is Amy. She’s staying with us now, OK?”  
  
Annette stared at her daughter, who grinned back. Then she sighed heavily. Kneeling down next to the girl, she put her hand on her head and stroked her hair, while looking seriously at her. “Taylor?”  
  
“Yes, Mom?”  
  
“I think you have a story to tell. Two hours ago you went to the park to play on the swings. This… isn’t quite what I expected when you got back.”  
  
Taylor nodded vigorously. “Yep, I went to the park, but the swings were all being used by bigger kids, so I went exploring instead. I found Amy in a bush.”  
  
“A… bush.”  
  
“Yep. A big brambly one. It had blackberries. Look!” She held up a plastic bag which was half full of the fruit, then took one and popped it into her mouth, which Annette noticed had a little smear of purple juice in the corner. “They’re really nice,” she added in a more muffled tone while chewing.  
  
Suppressing a slight sigh of amused resignation, Annette asked, “Why was Amy in a blackberry bush?”  
  
“She ran away from her mom, who was mean to her.” Taylor shrugged as if that was obvious. Annette glanced at the other girl who was peering out of her protective duvet fort with wide worried eyes. “Her new mom, I mean. I think.” She leaned a little closer to her own mother and whispered, “She was really upset and cold and wet and hungry. She’d been there since last night I think, she got lost and was scared.”  
  
“I see.” Annette pinched the bridge of her nose and went on, “So you brought her home.”  
  
“Yep. I shared my lunch with her first, though, and let her have my coat because she was shivering.”  
  
“Why didn’t you tell me when you came in?”  
  
Taylor looked innocently at her. “You were busy in the study and I didn’t want to disturb you?”  
  
Amy, very quietly, giggled.  
  
Annette, very quietly, sighed.  
  
“Oh dear. This is going to be complicated, I can just _feel_ it...”  
  
“So I told her she could stay here because you’re the best Mom in the world and Dad is the best Dad. And Bob likes Amy too, although she hasn’t met him yet.” Taylor sounded entirely cheerful and full of happiness. Turning to Amy, she explained, “Bob is the monster under the bed. He’s nice. Jim is the one in the closet and he’s a bit of a poohead but Bob and I sorted him right out a few weeks ago.” She looked thoughtful, tilting her head to the side, and continued, “Maybe I should get a bat of my own? Mom, can I have a bat like Dad’s? In case I need to make another example?”  
  
Stroking her daughter’s hair, Annette smiled slightly. “We can ask your father when he gets home, dear. But right now we need to talk about Amy.” Turning to look at the other girl who was staring at her, somewhat less fearfully but still with a worried wrinkle to her forehead, she said calmly and softly, “Hello, Amy. I’m Annette, Taylor’s mother.”  
  
“Hello,” a small voice said from within the duvet.  
  
Smiling, Annette asked, “So how did you end up in the park?”  
  
It took a while, but she eventually got the entire story out of the girls, and when she did she wasn’t too happy. By the time her husband came home, she’d calmed down enough to explain things to him as well, which was good as at least _one_ of them needed to have a clear head.  
  
Then they made some phone calls. Things did indeed get rather complicated at that point.  
  
 **=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=**  
  
Some hours later Danny and Annette stood at the door watching the car belonging to Sarah Pelham drive off, Amy looking back at them out the rear window. A small hand lifted in a wave, which they returned.  
  
Behind them, Taylor said in an upset voice, “I don’t want Amy to go.”  
  
“I know you don’t, dear,” Danny replied, crouching down next to her and pulling her into a hug. “You did a very nice thing for that poor girl. But we can’t just say she can stay, she has a family of her own.”  
  
“I know that, but she’s not happy,” Taylor insisted earnestly. Her eyes were slightly red from her feelings. “Her new mom isn’t very nice to her. She said her sister is all right but too noisy a lot of the time too. I think she wants some place quieter with people who are kind. _We’re_ kind!”  
  
“Yes, I agree,” he said, brushing a strand of curly hair off her face. “You are very kind, and very nice. I wouldn’t have exactly said you were very _quiet_ at times, but...” He grinned as she pouted. “When you and Emma get going, it gets very loud indeed.”  
  
“Except when it goes _worryingly_ quiet,” Annette put in as she closed the front door. “That’s when the _really_ odd things tend to happen.”  
  
Taylor snickered. Then she looked upset again. “I like Amy. Why can’t we keep her?”  
  
“You can’t just keep any girl you find in a blackberry bush, dear,” he told her in kind tones. “No matter what your Grandmother might tell you. That’s not how it really works.”  
  
The girl folded her arms and scowled. “It should work that way. Poor Amy.”  
  
“Her aunt is going to let her stay at her house for a few days while she talks to her mother to find out what happened,” Annette said, sitting on the floor and pulling Taylor into her lap, where she leaned back and hugged Thuley. Amy had given the doll back with reluctance when Sarah Pelham had taken her out of their house a few minutes ago, then thrown her arms around Taylor for several seconds. The blonde woman had smiled rather sadly at the sight, making Annette wonder what the true story of the girl really was.  
  
“I’m sure she’ll be fine,” she added quietly, despite her own misgivings.  
  
“She better be or I’ll be mad,” Taylor growled, staring into her doll’s eyes. Then she looked up at Danny. “That reminds me, Dad. Can _I_ have a bat of my very own?”  
  
They exchanged looks of amusement and mild concern, before Danny ruffled her hair. “We’ll talk about that tomorrow. Right now, it’s your bedtime.”  
  
His daughter frowned slightly, then sighed. “OK.”  
  
“Don’t worry, Taylor, Amy will be fine,” he assured her. “And I’m very proud of you. You did a very good thing today, helping someone in trouble like that, even if you did it in a very… Taylor… way.”  
  
She smiled brilliantly at him after thinking it over, before jumping out of her mother’s arms and to her feet, then rushing up the stairs in a thunder of small feet. He watched her go, then looked at his wife. She looked back.  
  
“We haven’t heard the last of this, I suspect,” he said quietly.  
  
“Probably not, no,” she agreed as she stood up. “Poor kid.”  
  
“Well, we’ll have to see what happens, I suppose.”  
  
There was a crash from upstairs. “That was Bob!” Taylor shouted.  
  
“Tell him to be more careful!” Annette called back with a smile.  
  
“Be more careful, Bob!” Taylor yelled.  
  
Shaking his head, Danny accompanied his wife into the kitchen. They both needed a glass of wine after the last few hours.  
  
 **=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=**  
  
Some hours later when the house was completely still and dark, only the light of the moon in a cloudy sky coming in past her curtains, Taylor stirred. Then she sat up, blinking, before listening for a moment.  
  
Swiveling around on the bed she lay face down over the edge, her hair hanging down to touch the floor, and peered into the absolute darkness under it. “Hey, Bob, you awake?” she whispered.  
  
“Great. Do you know the monster under Amy’s bed?”  
  
“Wonderful.” She slid off the bed and slithered under it. “Come on, we have a job to do,” her voice came faintly back to anyone who might have been in the room as she disappeared.  
  
 **=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=**  
  
“Psst.”  
  
Amy muttered in her sleep, rolling over and flinging an arm out.  
  
“Psst! Amy!”  
  
Blinking, the girl opened tear-streaked eyes, despite having washed her face, then raised her head and looked around the unfamiliar room in her aunt’s house. “Taylor?” she queried in a small puzzled voice.  
  
“Yep!” The sound of her new friend’s voice was a cheerful whisper.  
  
“Where are you?”  
  
“Under the bed.”  
  
Amy moved to look down at the floor. A head stuck out from under her bed making her jump. “Hi!”  
  
She gaped a little. “Why are you under the bed?” she asked, very confused. “ _How_ are you under the bed?”  
  
“I came to rescue you and Bob knows your monster Harry,” the other girl explained, which didn’t really clear all that much up.  
  
Staring at her dimly lit friend’s face, the streetlight outside letting her barely make it out, all Amy could really see was a wide grin with a tooth missing. Eventually she said, “My monster?” in a puzzled and somewhat worried voice.  
  
“Yep. He’s nice, he let us through without any trouble when I explained,” Taylor smiled. “Come on, we need to hurry before someone hears.”  
  
“What?” Amy was now _extremely_ confused.  
  
Taylor stuck her hand out and made a pointing motion under the bed. “We need to go.”  
  
“Under the bed?”  
  
“Yep.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“It’s the way home of course.” Taylor looked seriously at her. “Harry lets us through, and Bob takes us back to my house. Easy.”  
  
After quite a while, Amy shrugged and got out of bed, straightening the pajamas her aunt had given her, which had belonged to her cousin Crystal when she was little. Then, at Taylor’s urging, she rather hesitantly crawled under the bed, quickly vanishing into the oddly impenetrable darkness.  
  
“This is Harry, and this is Bob,” Taylor’s voice drifted out into the room.  
  
“Eek!”  
  
“They’re nice monsters,” Taylor patiently explained, her voice getting fainter. “And Bob doesn’t really eat socks, that was Mike being naughty. He lives in the dryer. Mind your head here.”  
  
“This is weird,” Amy’s almost inaudible voice said, sounding almost happy.  
  
“I know, right? But it’s fun.”  
  
The room was silent once more until morning when Sarah checked in on her wayward niece.  
  
And once again, things got rather complicated...


	3. The Art of the Boon...

Sarah Pelham sat on the sofa in the Hebert’s living room, sipping extraordinarily good tea and watching through the window as her adoptive niece, Taylor Hebert, and a girl who had been introduced to her as Emma Barnes, all ran around chasing each other in some sort of complicated game. She was fairly sure it either had no rules at all, or they were made up on the fly if they _did_ exist.  
  
After a couple of minutes, she glanced to the side at her sister, who was also holding a cup of tea in a somewhat white-fingered grip, while staring out the same window. The expression on her face was… odd. Even for her.  
  
Looking the other way she saw both Heberts watching them. Annette was a very elegant woman, not particularly tall but very slim, with what she’d have called a dancer’s figure. There was also something just slightly unusual about her, something Sarah simply couldn’t put her finger on, but whatever it was it told her that there was more to this woman than one might expect at first glance.  
  
Her husband Danny, next to her in the second of a pair of comfortable chairs, was tall and slender too, his hair ever so slightly showing male pattern baldness creeping in at the front. But he wore it well, and his square-rimmed glasses were stylish and fitted his face perfectly. His clothing wasn’t particularly exceptional, being merely fairly ordinary slacks with a nice shirt, in the same way that Annette was wearing a simple but nicely fitted pair of jeans with a sweater, but in both cases they carried the look effectively. Both seemed like nice people, and Taylor clearly adored them.  
  
Amy appeared to respect them a lot as well, she mused.  
  
Which was one of the many strange things that had happened in the last two or three weeks.  
  
The girl having run away and gotten lost started the whole thing, and it had caused quite the eruption at home. Carol had been very upset, but Sarah wasn’t sure if this was because of causing Amy to run, or because Amy defied her order to go to her room. She was all too aware that her sister was somewhat of an unwilling foster mother, and she regretted the whole series of events that had led to that. _And_ her decision to push the girl off on Carol, although it wasn’t entirely her idea.  
  
She’d really hoped that things would work out. That hope had been somewhat quashed over the last year or so, although she still held out some possibly misplaced trust that in the end Carol would be a good mother to the poor girl.  
  
Carol’s biological daughter Victoria had immediately taken to Amy, but then she was possibly one of the most extroverted and cheerful little girls Sarah had ever encountered. Almost _too_ cheerful at times, and not shy about making everyone within earshot aware of her moods. The girl was bright and inquisitive, she definitely had that going for her, and could twist most people around her little finger without too much effort, but at times she was something of a handful.  
  
Amy, on the other hand, was clearly still not sure of her place in the world, not surprising considering what had happened, and while she certainly had developed feelings for her new sister, it was obvious that at times she just wanted some peace and quiet to work through her own thoughts. Sarah could sympathize with that. She thought it unlikely that the girl could remember a vast amount about her life before moving in with the Dallons as she’d only been around five at the time and somewhat traumatized to boot, but on the other hand she certainly knew that Carol wasn’t her own biological mother.  
  
Carol had, in her own passive aggressive way, made damn sure of _that._  
  
At times Sarah wanted to take her sister behind the woodshed and do to her what their mother had done to both of them when they pulled off something particularly idiotic. Sipping her tea again, she sadly decided that it was something that should have been done quite a while ago, and it was probably too late to really help now.  
  
For that matter, some sort of therapy would most likely have been a good idea too, years ago. Again, a chance missed, but they’d both been a lot younger and hadn’t really realized quite how what had happened would affect them. It didn’t really help that their younger brother Mike was nearly as much of a control freak as Carol was and tended to come down on her side in any family argument, of which there had been a considerable number surrounding the entire adoption problem. This only reinforced Carol’s own attitude, unfortunately, making the entire thing far more emotional and much less sensible than ideal.  
  
And now poor little Amelia was caught right in the middle of it.  
  
She looked out the window again to see the girl in question fall flat on her face, then almost bounce upright again and chase after Emma who had tripped her and was running off giggling. Smiling slightly, she looked at the Heberts, meeting Annette’s eyes. She could see sympathy and understanding there.  
  
It had been also there, although accompanied with a certain level of anger that had made her extremely uncomfortable, when she’d turned up to retrieve her wayward niece after a rather awkward phone call. The woman had very obviously been quite ready to say or do something that could have caused a lot of problems until Sarah had managed to defuse the situation. Annette clearly didn’t approve of the story she’d heard from both her daughter and her daughter’s find in the park. Sarah didn’t blame her in the slightest, any mother would feel the same.  
  
She looked sideways at her sister, who was drinking tea mechanically, still looking out the window, and amended that thought.  
  
 _Almost_ any mother.  
  
When Sarah had taken Amy back to her house and made sure she was warm, fed, and safe in bed, she’d gone over to Carol’s house and had a very long and at times very loud conversation that had left her both incredibly irritated and wondering how willfully blind to the situation she’d been. And why.  
  
That last part was probably simple to answer; she’d trusted her sister to do the right thing. Possibly that trust had been misplaced…  
  
She didn’t like to think it, but she couldn’t deny she _had_ thought it several times, then and since.  
  
Of course, finding the next morning that Amy had vanished again, this time from a room that she was damn near certain hadn’t been opened the entire night, and from a house that she _was_ entirely certain hadn’t had anyone come or go, had been somewhat upsetting. She’d spent nearly an hour turning the house upside down and enlisting the aid of her husband and daughter to search the place, convinced that Amy must have hidden somewhere. The alarm hadn’t been triggered, and it was a very, very high end one that logged all movements in and out of the dwelling, along with anyone wandering around in the immediate vicinity. After Marquis and the launch of the New Wave movement, no one was taking chances, after all. Threats had been made, ones they took seriously.  
  
Yet there wasn’t a single sign of the girl _anywhere_. Nor any trace of how she could possibly have left, or more worryingly, been taken.  
  
Until a slightly exasperated Annette Hebert had phoned just after 7 AM to tell her that Amy was safely asleep on Taylor’s bed, the two girls next to each other and looking pleased with themselves. Deciding that it was best to get Amy back _before_ telling Carol, considering the mood she’d been in the night before, she’d immediately got back to the Hebert household and found that yes, Amy was indeed there.  
  
Of course, that had led to a _lot_ of questions, the answers to which left her more bewildered than she’d been before she started asking them. Very little of it made sense at all in her view.  
  
The _most_ reasonable explanation was that either Taylor was a Parahuman, or Carol had managed to drive little Amy into Triggering with her idiocy. There were some issues with either possibility though. One was that they both were _so young._ Not even seven years old, and Sarah couldn’t see how someone that young could have gone through the trauma to Trigger without it being _extremely_ obvious. Even a second generation Parahuman would have shown signs that she simply didn’t see in either girl.  
  
To put it simply, Taylor was too happy and carefree to be carrying that burden, and Amy, while less happy, didn’t show the typical symptoms either.  
  
Sarah _knew_. She’d been there, and she damn well knew the signs to look for. None of them were present.  
  
Taylor’s parents were very obviously a loving and supportive pair, who cared deeply for their daughter. She’d looked both of them up, calling in a couple of favors from some friends in the BBPD, and had learned that Danny was a respected and highly motivated high level manager at the Dock Worker’s Union, who thought the world of him. Annette was an English professor at the University, again highly respected, and extremely intelligent considering that she’d apparently made full professor at the age of thirty, not to mention spoke at least seven languages and had three degrees. Sarah had also learned that she’d had an interesting life in her twenties, which her now-husband had extricated her from by means that the police contact had snickered at and refused to go into details on.  
  
Even with that taken into account, though, neither of them were the sort of person who would either be in any way the _cause_ of a Trigger event in their daughter, or who would sit still for anyone or anything _else_ causing it. So yet again it seemed highly unlikely.  
  
Unfortunately she _could_ , very reluctantly, believe that Carol could push someone to that point. Not deliberately, she didn’t think that was something her sister was capable of doing, but… Amy’s father had been a villain, one Carol hated with a burning passion, and she had a terribly binary outlook on life. Sins of the father were _definitely_ something that she at least subconsciously could well apply to the daughter.  
  
If that _was_ what happened, Sarah was going to be much less than merely _disappointed_ with her sister.  
  
But she didn’t think it was. Looking at Amy running around in the back yard and laughing her head off, she just couldn’t see her as being someone who’d Triggered within the last few days to weeks at most, even leaving her age out of it. She was completely sure that if that had been the case it would be very apparent and not something that could be hidden.  
  
So what was going on? The whole situation didn’t make any sense.  
  
The really confusing and rather worrying part was that when she’d mentioned the possibility of Taylor having a Parahuman power to the Heberts both of them had laughed and assured her it was nothing of the kind. It was only the result of some special knowledge that ran in the family.  
  
Whatever the hell _that_ meant…  
  
Neither seemed particularly eager to explain, and her careful fishing hadn’t produced a lot of results. Neither had asking Taylor herself when she’d met the girl again. Taylor had merely grinned that happy snaggletoothed grin of the very young and earnestly told her that she’d asked the monster under the bed for a favor.  
  
Which… didn’t help in the slightest, if she was honest.  
  
So at the moment she was rather in the dark about _how_ Taylor seemed able to retrieve Amy from several miles away without setting off any alarms, assuming that it really was Taylor behind it. It was certainly not normal at all, but on the other hand she didn’t know what it _was_. Aside from almost definitely most likely not a Parahuman ability. Probably. She thought.  
  
Shaking her head a little she tried to put her thoughts in order.  
  
Taylor was probably not a Parahuman.  
  
 _Amy_ was probably not a Parahuman.  
  
Both the Hebert parents denied being Parahumans too and as far as she could determine they were most likely being truthful.  
  
And she was sure that no one else in her family could teleport a six year old girl several miles across the city in the middle of the night.  
  
So that left… what?  
  
Taylor was mistaken and it was some _other_ Parahuman unconnected with either the Dallon, Pelham, or Hebert families that did it? If so, why? It had happened _four times_ to date, without anyone noticing anything aside from Amy not being where she _had_ been when she went to bed. And it hadn’t made any difference whether that bed was at Carol’s house, Sarah’s house, or when they’d experimentally tried going to Mike’s house which was considerably further out in a more rural area. If it _was_ a Parahuman it was one that had a lot more knowledge of them than she was keen on, and if it _wasn’t_ she was drawing a complete blank.  
  
Of course, Taylor _had_ happily taken credit for the whole thing, because Amy was unhappy, but that produced more questions than answers. Sarah really didn’t know whether to believe the girl or not.  
  
Carol, being Carol, had exploded the first time and taken a lot of talking down from immediately raising hell, charging across the city, and accusing the Heberts to their faces of stealing her daughter somehow. Sarah had patiently explained that getting the PRT involved was the last thing they wanted, since they were still looked on somewhat suspiciously from that quarter, especially after taking down Marquis. There were numerous irregularities surrounding Amy too, and they couldn’t afford to attract official attention to them. It would almost certainly end up getting much messier than anyone wanted.  
  
When Sarah had retrieved Amy that morning after Annette’s call, the girl had seemed far happier than she’d seen her before, although sad to be removed from her new friend who she seemed to idolize. It was understandable, the Hebert kid had after all rescued Amy from the park, fed her, warmed her up, and made her laugh for what might have been the first time in months. Neither girl had wanted to separate and Sarah had found it heartbreaking how Amy had clung to Taylor for quite a while when they left the Hebert house for the second time.  
  
It made her wonder, yet again, if Carol had ever bothered to even hug the poor little thing.  
  
Then only four days later it happened again. And again just under a week after that, following what Sarah later found out had been Carol being an ass to the girl once more for stupid reasons. Vicky had spilled the beans, which had got her sent to her room, looking upset. Finally it had happened _again_ last night. She suspected that Carol had made Amy cry yet again but her sister wouldn’t confirm that, only looking petulant when pressed.  
  
She suppressed a sigh, glancing at the other woman, who was now staring at the carpet apparently thinking things she wasn’t too happy about based on her tight expression.  
  
Annette turned her head and looked out the window herself with a small smile. “They do seem happy playing together, don’t they?” she commented.  
  
Sarah followed the direction of her gaze and nodded. “Yes, they do. I haven’t seen Amy laugh like that for...” She caught herself and gave Carol a sidelong glance, feeling a little guilty, but her sister didn’t seem to notice.  
  
The Hebert woman definitely did but she didn’t mention it, only looking at Carol with a slight frown that cleared away almost instantly. “I’m sorry that you’ve had to make the trip over her again,” she said after a moment, “it must be rather annoying. But Amy seems to be enjoying herself so it’s not all bad.” Standing, she picked up the teapot and came over, Sarah holding out her cup for a refill with a nod of thanks. Returning to her seat she sat down again. “Emma gets on with her very well too. Perhaps one day she and Taylor can meet Victoria. Amy’s talked quite a lot about her. And apparently you have two children too?”  
  
“Yes, I do,” Sarah replied with a smile, leaving Carol to stew in her own thoughts for now. Sooner or later it was almost inevitable that her sister would start up again but until then she was going to just be friendly and calm. “Crystal is ten, and Eric is only just five, but he’s growing like a weed.”  
  
“They do at that age,” Danny smiled. “Taylor’s shooting up too, she’s going to be taller than her mother by the time she’s fourteen or fifteen at this rate.”  
  
“You mentioned last time that you had a brother. Does he have children?” Annette asked.  
  
“No, he and his girlfriend haven’t really decided yet.” She shook her head, smiling a little. “I suspect they will in the end, but they’re both quite a bit younger than Carol or myself. And our lifestyle is… a little complicated. That might be putting them off.”  
  
“Understandable,” Danny nodded with a look at his wife.  
  
“This is ridiculous!” Carol suddenly said, rather loudly, as she looked up and rejoined the conversation. She didn’t sound happy, making Sarah wince. “We can’t just pretend that nothing happened! This isn’t some sort of… of… play date or something! My daughter just _vanished_ from her room and the next thing we know she’s here with your kid! _Again!_ What the hell is going on?”  
  
Sarah grabbed her sister by the shoulder as she started to stand up, not entirely certain she wasn’t about to go for either of the Heberts. The other woman looked at the hand on her shoulder, then glared at Sarah, but very reluctantly resumed her position on the sofa. She put the teacup down on the side table quite deliberately then clasped her hands together, making it look like she was only barely restraining herself from doing something unfortunate.  
  
Danny had, to Sarah’s eyes, tensed very slightly as if he was ready to react when Carol moved, while Annette was watching them both with keen eyes that betrayed the tiniest hint of disapproval. Somehow that made Sarah somewhat concerned. She had no idea quite why but it was true.  
  
“Please don’t raise your voice like that, Carol,” the brunette said in calming tones. “There’s no need to get angry, and we don’t want to frighten the children do we?”  
  
Looking out the window Sarah saw that Amy had frozen in the middle of the back yard and both Taylor and Emma were hugging her. They’d obviously heard Carol’s near-shout.  
  
Taylor turned her head and met Sarah’s eyes from fifty feet away, holding her gaze for several seconds. Then she went back to hugging her friend.  
  
Sarah swallowed just a little.  
  
For some reason she’d felt the tiniest bit worried there for a moment. Again, she had not the faintest idea _why_ , as it had only been a six year old girl looking at her, but…  
  
“My daughter keeps turning up here and no one will tell me how or why,” Carol said in a lower but angry voice. “It’s got to be a Parahuman power. There are laws against that sort of thing.”  
  
“I can assure you it’s not a Parahuman power at all, Carol,” Annette replied evenly, smiling. “As I said it’s only Taylor using some old family knowledge to make a new friend happy. Perhaps it would be better to forget about the precise mechanism of what’s happening and ask ourselves _why_ it’s happening, don’t you think? After all, we only want to let our children have happy and fulfilling lives.”  
  
“Are you insinuating that...” Carol spewed, her face reddening. Sarah put her hand on her sister’s arm and squeezed. Hard. The other woman stopped with a suppressed grunt, making Danny look momentarily slightly amused. Annette merely watched them both without her expression changing from the serene calm it had shown pretty much every time Sarah had met her.  
  
“I’m not insinuating anything, Carol,” she said. “All I’m saying is that for whatever reason Amy at times apparently _isn’t_ happy and Taylor is aware of that. She’s decided that she’s going to cheer her up, and part of that cheering process seems to be to play with her when she’s sad. I see nothing wrong with that.”  
  
“She is _playing_ with her _here at your house,_ ” Carol grated. “The problem with this is that neither I nor Sarah have _brought her here_. Somehow _your_ daughter is stealing _my_ daughter away in the night by methods you won’t explain, which makes me very upset.”  
  
“That’s understandable,” Annette said in soothing tones. “Any mother would be worried about one of her children vanishing and I’m sure would be quite prepared to do anything at all to get them back. I know I would if something ever happened to Taylor.”  
  
Sarah tried not to think about how Carol had apparently not actually noticed that Amy had disappeared for a good six hours. And she caught the look in Annette’s eyes that said that she was well aware of this…  
  
“But you don’t have to worry,” the other woman went on, “Amy is perfectly safe with our daughter. I can assure you that she’s not going to come to harm in any way. Taylor adores her, nearly as much as she does Emma, and knows how to look after herself. She’s very responsible for her age although I will admit she sometimes has a slightly… individual… way to show that.” She smiled for a moment. “But it generally works out well in the end.”  
  
“From what I know you let your six year old daughter wander down to the local park half a mile away unsupervised,” Carol sniped. “That doesn’t seem particularly responsible to _me_ no matter how much she ‘ _knows how to look after herself_.’ She’s _six_ for god’s sake! I would never let _my_ daughter out of my sight like that!”  
  
Sarah resisted the urge to put her hand over her eyes but it was a near thing.  
  
Danny and Annette exchanged looks. “Possibly we misunderstood what happened to poor Amy then that day?” Annette asked sweetly but with an edge to her voice.  
  
Jumping in before something was said that made things even more difficult to handle, Sarah said, “Mistakes were made, unfortunately. We’ve taken steps to ensure that won’t happen again.”  
  
“One would hope so,” Danny murmured. “Although from what I gather Amy is still somewhat unhappy at times. Taylor is aware of that, of course, and seems intent on helping her. I can’t say I disagree with her.”  
  
“You...” Carol nearly shouted, but stopped when Sarah squeezed her arm again, this time nearly hard enough to make the bone creak. As she was about to say something herself, the doorbell rang.  
  
“Ah. Excuse me, I’ll just see who that is,” Annette said, standing up gracefully and walking out of the room. Carol subsided, breathing through her nose in a manner that Sarah knew all too well meant she was furious but trying not to show it. Danny didn’t appear to notice, or more likely was polite enough not to show it, he just waited patiently.  
  
“The weather seems to be cooling down quite fast,” he noted. “I always like this time of year, when the summer is almost over and fall is beginning.”  
  
Grateful for the change in subject, and knowing full well it was just to allow Carol to calm down again, Sarah smiled. “Yes, there’s something magical about it when all the trees change color. I remember when I was young we used to love this season. Playing in the fallen leaves, helping dad rake them up then burn them… Halloween was always fun too.”  
  
“Taylor is still a little young for that, although we do have our own little family traditions surrounding the holiday,” he smiled. “I expect soon enough she’ll be joining in the hunt for free candy, though.”  
  
Sarah smiled again. “Crystal loves Halloween. She always comes up with the most extravagant ideas for costumes but the implementation is sometimes… not quite up to expectations.”  
  
He grinned. “A common problem.” Then he looked around as Annette came back into the room with an older woman following. Sarah studied her with interest, seeing a clear family resemblance between the two women. The newcomer was of indeterminate age, one of those people who could well look in their fifties right into late seventies or so, tall and slender with dark hair and high cheekbones. The Pelham woman thought that whoever this was had probably been spectacularly beautiful in her youth and had aged remarkably well. She had the thought that she hoped she herself managed to pull off her later years so elegantly.  
  
“This is my mother, she was in the area and decided to stop by,” Annette said.  
  
“My apologies for interrupting you all,” the woman said quietly, her voice rich and educated, with a slight accent that Sarah couldn’t pinpoint. “I seldom visit Brockton Bay for a number of reasons and couldn’t resist visiting my daughter and her family since I had to fly in for business reasons. It’s been some time since I’ve seen little Taylor.” As Sarah stood, nudging Carol to do the same, she held out her hand. “Mal Linwood. A pleasure to meet you both.”  
  
“Sarah Pelham,” Sarah replied, shaking the offered hand. Reluctantly, Carol did the same.  
  
“Carol Dallon.”  
  
“Oh, the famous local heroes of New Wave,” Mal smiled, her expressive mouth very similar to Taylor’s, showing where the girl had got it from. “An honor indeed.”  
  
“Tea, mother?” Annette said mildly as she picked up a cup and the still-steaming teapot. “It’s your favorite.”  
  
“Thank you, Annette, that would be lovely,” Mal replied, accepting the cup and holding it as her daughter filled it. “Ah, the smell does take me back,” she added, sniffing the aromatic steam, then delicately sipping from the vessel. “So many years since I first had this… How time flies.” She took a seat in the only free chair in the living room. “I do hope I’m not causing a bother by arriving unexpectedly like this.”  
  
“No, not at all,” Sarah assured her, actually somewhat relieved that what could have ended up as another shouting match had been at least temporarily forestalled.  
  
“What brings you two to my daughter’s house?” Mal asked after another sip. A shout of childish laughter from outside made her glance around, and she watched the three girls playing for a few seconds with a smile. Then she looked at Sarah with eyes that seemed far more knowing than the blonde expected. The glance shifted to Carol and Mal frowned very slightly. Sarah got the weird impression that the older woman had somehow discerned far more in that moment than seemed plausible.  
  
“A minor difficulty with Taylor being slightly overenthusiastic,” Danny said with a dry tone, causing Mal to look at him, then chuckle.  
  
“Oh dear. That sounds like there is a tale well worth the telling.”  
  
He sighed a little. “As is often the case with Taylor, yes,” he replied in a good-natured manner.  
  
“Has she been talking to the monster under the bed again?” Mal inquired with an amused look.  
  
“She’s not so much talking _to_ him as talking him _into_ things,” her father muttered. Sarah and Carol looked back and forth between the pair.  
  
“She always did have a persuasive way with language even when she was very small,” Mal replied calmly, before taking another sip of tea. Lowering the cup, she continued, “It is something of a family trait I fear. I well remember some of Annette’s adventures...”  
  
Everyone looked at the mentioned woman who pinked slightly. “I did have an interesting childhood,” she admitted, causing Mal to laugh.  
  
“That is certainly one way to put it, my dear. Again, it is something of a family trait. On both sides.” She gave Danny a meaningful look and he grinned. “One can only imagine what the combination will produce with little Taylor.”  
  
“Don’t say that, Mal, it worries me,” he groaned. She covered a small smirk with the cup and took another sip.  
  
“Granny Mallie!” Taylor’s delighted voice came from the doorway, making everyone look. “I didn’t know you were coming over!”  
  
“Hello, Taylor,” Mal replied as the girl dashed over, handing her cup to Danny who reached out for it just before Taylor reached her. She held out both arms and hugged the young girl who launched herself into them. “It is very nice to see you again.”  
  
“Are you staying long?” Taylor asked excitedly. “I want to introduce you to Jim. You could tell him to stop being a poohead and he’d have to listen. Bob and I beat him up a little a while ago but he’s still rude sometimes.”  
  
“And Jim is…?” Mal asked, looking amused at the stream of rapid words.  
  
“He’s the new monster in the closet. Richard is on sabbatical, he said. What’s that?” She frowned in a thoughtful manner.  
  
“A time of paid leave,” her grandmother replied, smiling. “Perhaps you were so much trouble he needed a break?”  
  
Taylor pouted. “I was very nice to him. I laughed at his jokes and everything even when they weren’t funny.”  
  
“I am sure you did, dear girl.” Mal reached out and touched the weird little doll Taylor had on her shoulder for some reason. “I see Thuley is still with you.”  
  
Taylor patted the plush horror, looking happy. “Of course he is, he’s my friend.”  
  
“Indeed he is, a very loyal one too,” Mal smiled, then looked past Taylor to the doorway where Emma and Amy were looking into the room. “I recognize Emma, that remarkable hair is memorable indeed, but who is your other friend?” she asked curiously, releasing Taylor with one hand and beckoning. “Come in, girls, it is a pleasure to see you both.”  
  
Emma, who was nearly as talkative as Taylor when she got going, Sarah had noticed, but was shyer, quickly went over to the woman, Amy trailing along behind looking a little lost. She glanced at Carol, who didn’t react, then away. It made Sarah sigh internally. No, there was definitely a problem there that needed solving somehow.  
  
“Hi, Mrs Linwood,” Emma said politely.  
  
“I have told you that you can call me Granny just like Taylor does, dear,” Mal smiled. “I have known you nearly as long. My, you _are_ getting taller. How old are you now?”  
  
“Six and a half!” the small girl replied with a wide grin. “I’ll be seven in March!”  
  
“Well, I shall have to make sure I find you a good birthday present then,” Mal laughed. “I am sure I can come up with something. Taylor never seems to complain, certainly.”  
  
“Your presents are the best, Granny,” Taylor said eagerly. “This is my friend Amy.” She grabbed Amy’s arm and pulled her close. “I found her.”  
  
“You _found_ her?” Mal lifted an eyebrow.  
  
“Yep. In a blackberry bush.” Taylor looked proud. “She was right in the middle. It was like one of your stories. She ran away from home. That’s her mother there.” She indicated Carol, who was looking somewhat bewildered at this point. “And I rescued her and brought her home and gave her my coat and everything! She was really sad but I made it better.”  
  
“Well done, Taylor, very well done,” Mal said approvingly, placing her hand on Taylor’s head and looking pleased. “That was good of you. Hello, Amy.” She held out her hand to the shorter girl. “Don’t worry, I don’t bite.”  
  
Amy looked nervous but held out her own hand, which Mal gravely shook. “It is very pleasant to make your acquaintance,” the older woman said.  
  
“Hi,” Amy squeaked, seeming slightly overwhelmed, and retrieving her own hand as fast as possible. Mal studied her closely for a few seconds them smiled rather mysteriously.  
  
“Yes, I think you have an interesting future ahead of you, my dear girl,” she commented.  
  
Taylor smiled widely. “Hear that, Amy? You’re going to do some interesting things! Granny Mallie always knows.”  
  
Sarah looked at Annette who smiled back, then at Amy who appeared somewhat puzzled but also pleased. “Good?” the girl said after a second.  
  
“It’s great. We can have lots of adventures.” Hopping down from her seat on Mal’s lap, Taylor grabbed both Amy and Emma and pulled them out of the room. “Come on, let’s go tell Bob.” Moments later they’d vanished, a lot of small footsteps on the stairs signaling their departure.  
  
Mal smiled tolerantly as she turned back to the others. “The energy of the young never fails to lift one’s spirits, don’t you agree?” she remarked as she retrieved her teacup from Danny, then took another sip while inspecting Carol and Sarah with a gaze that seemed far too knowing. “So. What is the _true_ reason you two are here?” She looked at the ceiling for a moment as there was a loud thud from somewhere above them.  
  
“Bob! Put that back!” Taylor’s voice said faintly. Mal smiled as Danny sighed a little and Annette giggled.  
  
“True reason?” Sarah asked after a second or two.  
  
“Oh, my dear, I can easily tell that neither of you brought Amy over to play with Taylor. I assume that Taylor made her own arrangements and you are in fact present to retrieve Amy rather than the reverse.” She looked at Annette, who made an almost unnoticeable nod. “Reading between the lines from little Taylor’s speech, Amy is not entirely happy at home.” She looked at Carol again, then back to Sarah. “I would assume because she is adopted there is some problem?”  
  
“How do you know she’s adopted?” Carol burst out, her face pale with anger.  
  
“I have something of a gift for seeing the truth,” Mal replied without rancor. “And I like children. One learns to discern these things at my age.” She smiled again. “I have had rather a lot of practice over the years. Now, given that Amy was as Taylor put it, ‘ _in a bush_ ,’ one can assume that she was unhappy and frightened. I have little doubt that Taylor would immediately act to remedy that, most likely effectively if somewhat oddly. What interests me is why Amy looked so cautious when she entered the room.”  
  
She looked hard at Carol, whose face reddened again. “And more accurately looked at _you_ , my dear, as if she had reason to be so. Why is that?” The question was entirely innocently asked but Sarah suddenly got an overwhelming feeling that if Mal didn’t get an answer she liked there was going to be a problem. There was something in her eyes which sent a shiver down her spine.  
  
Carol didn’t respond for a few seconds, during which Mal patiently waited. Then she opened her mouth, paused, and closed it again.  
  
“I see.” Mal finished her tea, then handed the empty cup to Danny who took it without a word. He and Annette seemed to be interested in what was going on and disinclined to interrupt. “In that case, allow me to conjecture. I suspect that our little Amy upstairs is related to someone who at one point was quite notorious. There is a distinct family resemblance in my opinion.”  
  
Carol gasped. “You knew Mar...” She snapped her mouth shut as Sarah gaped.  
  
“Ah. It appears I am correct. Yes, I did meet our mutual acquaintance on a number of occasions,” Mal replied with a slight smile on her lips. “He was an interesting man in some ways. It is unfortunate that he took many of the actions that he did, but such is the way of life. I can’t say I _approve_ of it but it wasn’t my business, presuming that he avoided causing issues that would cause me to take an interest. We came to a mutually satisfactory arrangement so such a thing never happened.” She paused and glanced at Danny and his wife. Returning her attention to Sarah and Carol who were listening in shock, she went on.  
  
“I know that your family venture was the cause of his ultimate downfall. Again, I feel that I cannot entirely approve of how this was done, but again, it is not really my business. I do think that it was somewhat ill-advised and may in the end cause a number of problems you might wish to avoid, but again, life is not entirely fair at the best of times.”  
  
“Who _are_ you?” Sarah asked as she fell silent again.  
  
“Me? No one you would have heard of,” Mal replied with that same slight smile. “I merely have some interests in this city, as I do in many locations. As such I sometimes meet some unusual people. Marquis was one of them.” She made a motion with one hand. “I have been around for quite a while, you see. However, that is unimportant at the moment. Returning to the subject at hand, I assume that events happened to work out in a manner that ended up with your family having the duty of care for Amy?”  
  
She examined Carol, then Sarah, who was hardly breathing by now. “I strongly suspect at the request of Marquis. Despite his many faults, he had an honor of his own and was a man who would wish the best for his family. A young girl who would have been, hmm, five I think? She would not have been well handled by the normal system as the daughter of such a notorious criminal.”  
  
Leaning forward a little, she continued after a few seconds, “I cannot help but suspect that she is not entirely well handled by the situation that she currently finds herself in either.”  
  
“How can you _possibly_ know all this?” Carol shouted, irritably shaking off Sarah’s cautioning hand on her arm. “You’ve got to be some sort of Parahuman. A Thinker? Some sort of villain?” She stood and raised a hand.  
  
Mal made a gesture and Carol froze, then limply dropped back onto the sofa. “None of that, dear, we don’t want to cause a scene, do we?”  
  
Sarah looked at Carol, who seemed to have suddenly lost the ability to stand, then Mal, whose smile had become just a tiny bit dangerous. She didn’t know quite what was happening but felt that they were both in a situation that wasn’t one she liked.  
  
“No, I am not a Parahuman,” Mal went on after a moment. “I am… something else. As I said, I have been around for some time. I certainly predate that golden fellow and his little acts of random heroics.” She glanced at the Heberts, who were just listening quietly. “The world is much, much older than many really understand, and Parahumans are a very recent development. There are things from far back in time that are more than a match for them, trust me on that. You would not enjoy many of them. However, none of that is important for now. What _is_ important is seeing to the happiness of a small girl. Shall we discuss how that is to be arranged?”  
  
Carol twitched one hand. “What did you do to me?” she demanded weakly. “This is assault with a Parahuman power. I’ll see you in the Birdcage for this...”  
  
“Do not test me, child. You offered me violence in the dwelling of my own family.” Mal stood and looked down at them. Sarah felt a wave of sudden terror go through her as the old woman suddenly appeared much, much more dangerous than she’d ever experienced, somehow without changing at all. “There was a time where such an act would have had… severe repercussions.”  
  
“Mother,” Annette said with a warning tone. Mal looked at her, then sighed, nodding.  
  
“As you wish. It is your right to defend the honor of your house, not mine. My apologies.” She sat down again and arranged herself. “Forgive me. I do not take well to threats to those I care about.”  
  
Sarah nodded with a dry throat, feeling that something horrible had just been averted.  
  
“Carol Dallon.” Mal looked hard at the younger blonde. “Tell me, truthfully, what the problem is, and we shall see how we can deal with it.” She flicked a finger and Carol took a deep breath, apparently released from whatever it was that the older woman had done. She turned to Sarah, appearing almost lost, which was very unlike her, then when her sister shrugged and nodded, returned her attention to Mal and started explaining things that had happened over a year ago, with a level of honesty that Sarah didn’t expect.  
  
Mal just listened silently until she was done, as did the Heberts.  
  
When Carol finally finished, having said a few things that had shocked Sarah despite herself, Mal studied her for some time without saying anything before nodding.  
  
“I see. I can understand your viewpoint, I will admit, although I find it unfortunate. Amy is an innocent in all this and despite your feelings, blaming a child for the actions of her father is unwise and unjustified. You should know that.” Mal shook her head slowly. “It can only lead to to problems in the longer term that could easily be avoided, that much I can guarantee you. But that leaves us with a problem. Amy is not happy living with you, that much is obvious. What is equally obvious is that you are not happy having her live with you. You are resentful of your sister, in your view, forcing you to take the girl in.”  
  
Carol opened her mouth, causing Mal to give her a look which made her close it again and huddle in on herself. Despite feeling more than a little upset with her sister, Sarah put her arm around her. “Again, I think that you are not entirely correct in that assessment although there _is_ a certain amount of merit in it. But that is by the by and something you must work out between you.” She tapped a finger on her knee, thoughtfully, as she regarded the two women. Then she looked at Annette and her husband.  
  
She lifted an eyebrow. Annette glanced at Danny, who nodded. Annette smiled a little at her mother. Mal returned her attention to the other two.  
  
“I will make you a deal.”  
  
“A deal?” Carol echoed, rather suspiciously.  
  
“A deal,” Mal nodded, smiling in a way that made Sarah nervous. “I suggest that the optimum solution to the problem from all sides is to remove Amy from her current location. Taylor clearly thinks the world of the girl. Annette and Danny would be prepared to take on the responsibility of caring for her and raising her. This would eliminate the main issue for both Amy and yourself. Your honor is intact, Amy is taken care of as you promised, your stress regarding your fears about her are assuaged, and Amy herself finds herself in a far better position. Allow this, and I will in turn bestow on you a boon.”  
  
Carol stared at her as if she suspected the older woman was insane. “A… boon? That sounds like something from a fairy tale,” she scoffed.  
  
Mal smirked very faintly. “The old tales always have a kernel of truth to them, dear child,” she said quietly, her odd accent strengthening for a moment. More loudly, she added, “Call it a favor, then. I have a certain amount of resources you do not, and I strongly suspect that at some point in the not too distant future you may have a requirement for a service I can provide. Bearing in mind your lifestyle, of course.” She looked between them. “One never knows when an outside element may help.”  
  
“We would need to make sure that Amy was all right with this, Mal,” Danny cautioned. “I’m not prepared to do something that she won’t be happy with.”  
  
“Simply asking her would seem like the ideal solution to that problem,” Mal replied with a smile. “Assuming that Carol agrees. I see no good reason for her not to, of course, as from what she has said the current situation has no good outcome for anyone. Although I do feel sorry for young Victoria, since it sounds like she and Amy are quite fond of each other.”  
  
“We can probably figure out a way around that,” Annette commented, smiling. “I see no reason to keep them from seeing each other if they want to. Children thrive with lots of friends.”  
  
“True enough,” Mal agreed. She looked back to Sarah and her sister. “What do you think about this solution?”  
  
Sarah turned to her sister, who looked highly conflicted. “We’re going to have to think about it,” she finally replied.  
  
“Entirely understandable, Sarah. Hasty decisions are often unwise.” Mal nodded. “I will be in town for a few days. When you have decided, we can work out the details.”  
  
 **=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=**  
  
Upstairs, Taylor turned to Amy, who was smiling but looked worried. “See? I said Granny Mallie could fix it.” She hugged the other girl, Emma doing the same on the other side. “Everything’s going to be OK.”  
  
She put the air vent cover back into the hole in the floor that all three girls had been gathered around, then flopped back onto the carpet. “I always wanted a sister.”  
  
Amy lay down next to her. Emma rolling over onto her stomach and propping her chin on her hands. The red-head smiled. “I thought I was your sister.”  
  
Taylor grabbed her hand. “Of course you are. Sisters forever. Nothing will change that. But now we have Amy too!”  
  
“I’ll miss Vicky,” Amy said in a small voice, making both the others look at her. Taylor grabbed her hand too.  
  
“No problem, we can see her any time. Hey, Bob, do you know Vicky’s monster?”  
  
All three of them peered into the deep darkness under the bed. Taylor grinned widely. “There, see? Bob can go talk to Jeff and we can see Vicky too.”  
  
Amy smiled happily.  
  
 **=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=**  
  
On the drive home, Carol was very quiet, as was Sarah. In the back seat Amy seemed cheerful, unlike the previous times she’d left the Hebert house. Looking at her in the rear view mirror, Sarah shook her head slightly. This whole situation was so weird she didn’t know _what_ to think.  
  
But at least the girl seemed happier, so it wasn’t all bad.  
  
That said, there was going to be a lot of talking that needed to be done, and a lot of issues that needed to be aired. Perhaps it was for the best, really. The stresses of the New Wave movement were hard on everyone and they couldn’t afford to make things worse with internal problems, if they could be avoided. So one way or another they’d need to come to an agreement.  
  
But she was still extremely puzzled about exactly _how_ Amy kept ending up in the Hebert’s house, as the explanation of the monster under the bed helping was clearly completely ridiculous.  
  
And she had no idea at all who or what Mal Linwood was. _That_ part was going to take a _lot_ of thought.


	4. Shout, Shout, and Shout Again!

**“Shut _UP!_ ”** Neil Pelham bellowed at the top of his voice, literally making the windows rattle. The roar made everyone present jump and the massive argument that had now gone on for over half an hour abruptly ceased. The enormous man looked around, then nodded in satisfaction. “Thank you,” he said at a much more reasonable volume. “Now can we _please_ discuss this like _adults_ , quietly and maturely? Carol, you’re being difficult again, and Mike, you’re not helping. Both of you calm the hell down, will you?”  
  
The siblings glared at him from opposite sides of the table the entire extended family was gathered around at the Dallon house, which was large enough for everyone to meet up. None of the children were there, they were at the Pelham house along with a trusted babysitter, behind a very paranoid alarm system. The babysitter in question was a late-twenties Israeli woman Sarah had met a couple of years ago, who had moved to the US shortly before then to live with her boyfriend.  
  
She was also ex-Israeli special forces, a martial arts trainer, and one of the single most lethal people Sarah had ever encountered. The Pelham woman felt quite safe leaving the children in her care, being pretty sure that even many Parahumans might well find themselves wanting if they started anything. And their house was only a block away to boot so they could be there in well under a minute if anything did happen.  
  
No one had thought it a wise idea to let the children overhear what was likely to be a fairly acrimonious debate, as it would only cause problems later and upset all of them in the near term.  
  
They’d been arguing for hours, and this latest back and forth between Mike and Carol on one side, and Sarah and Jess on the other, had become pretty nasty, hence Neil losing patience. Sarah took a deep breath, then exhaled very slowly, before saying as calmly as she could, “Thank you, Neil. I agree, we’re getting far too emotional about all this and we’re in danger of no one listening to anyone. Let’s take a break and just calm down for a few minutes, shall we?”  
  
Carol folded her arms and glared at her, but nodded. Mike threw his hands in the air, stood up, and stomped out into the garden with what was left of his glass of beer. Neil exchanged a look with Carol’s husband Mark, who shrugged, then took the last of the cheese sandwiches and began eating it slowly while looking thoughtfully into the fireplace. A small fire, the first of the fall, was burning there and he seemed fascinated by the crackling flames.  
  
Jess looked around, then sighed quietly and reached for the bottle of wine in the middle of the table, tipping the last drops in it into her glass, which she drank. “Probably best not to open another one,” she commented, looking at Sarah with a twist of her mouth that was almost but not quite a smile. “Tempers are high enough without adding more alcohol.”  
  
“All too true,” Sarah agreed, annoyed still at how both her siblings were doing the usual double act of being completely unreasonable and assuming the worst, then reinforcing each other. She still couldn’t quite work out _why_ they could be so damned rigid in their opinions but it had caused problems in the past, and was looking likely to do the same again.  
  
After a moment, she got up and went into the kitchen for a fresh glass, which she filled with cold water and stood drinking for a while, looking out into the back yard where Mike was pacing back and forth in a rather angry way. The dim illumination from the back porch lights was enough to show his presence but she couldn’t make out details. Of course the dark didn’t affect him nearly as much due to his own powers.  
  
Hearing someone come to stand next to her, she looked around at her husband, then leaned on his immense chest. “God, this is difficult,” she said very quietly.  
  
He held her and nodded. “You knew it was going to be. Hell, we all knew it was going to be, even Carol.” He was keeping his voice low to prevent the others overhearing. “Your sister is… not the most logical person I’ve ever met,” he added with slight amusement, making her snort.  
  
“You don’t have to tell _me_ , that, I grew up with her,” she replied. “And Mike. Who can be even worse. When they get together like that, well… you’d probably need Blaster powers to get them to change their minds.”  
  
He snickered. “Yeah. I know what you mean.” They stood there comfortably for a little while, until he asked, “Do you really think this is the best thing for Amy?”  
  
She nodded slowly. “I do, I’m afraid. I love that girl, and I really regret how badly we’ve handled everything surrounding her. She doesn’t deserve all this, not even a little. I hate to say it, but I suspect Carol feels in some way that she _does_ , though. Mostly as a way to get back at Marquis.” She looked up at his face, seeing he was frowning out the window at Mike’s pacing form. “I don’t think she really realizes that, but I do think it’s part of the whole problem. You know what she’s like when she sets her mind on something.”  
  
“Almost impossible to shift,” he sighed.  
  
“Yes. Even, or especially, when she’s wrong and knows it. She really doesn’t like being wrong.”  
  
“Most people don’t,” he pointed out.  
  
“Sure, but most people can eventually accept it even if they don’t _like_ it,” she muttered. “Carol… is more contrary.”  
  
“And Mike isn’t helping.”  
  
“No.” She looked at her brother’s vague figure, seeing he’d stopped and was now staring up at the waxing moon. “He’s a control freak and has never really been the same since… what happened.”  
  
“Man’s tightly wound, I’ll give you that,” Neil commented softly. “I hoped that Jess would… I dunno, unwind him a little, but if that’s happening it’s happening pretty slowly.”  
  
“He _is_ better than he was, the last year has definitely allowed him to mellow a little, but it’s a long trip from mellower Mike to not-controlling Mike,” she said with regret. “And all this is bringing back memories he probably doesn’t want to think about. The Marquis operation affected us all.”  
  
“Not as much as it affected Marquis,” Neil joked. She chuckled, shaking her head.  
  
“No, I suppose not.” They were silent for half a minute or so, then she said reflectively, “Is it wrong that I feel bad about even inadvertently harming his daughter?”  
  
“Not at all,” Neil replied, gently turning her head with one hand to look up at his face. “Amy is an innocent little girl who was caught up in things completely out of her control. She deserves better, and I’m afraid that we haven’t managed that. We made a promise, which even if it was to a criminal, was also to a father who cared about his kid. I think we need to honor that promise, or we’re no better than he was in a weird way.”  
  
After a few seconds, she sighed. “The horrible part is that if the situation was reversed, I think he’d have kept his word if we’d asked him to take care of Crystal, or Vicky. I don’t like him at all, I never will, but I have to admit that he genuinely did keep his word if you could get it.”  
  
“He was a more complicated man than most villains are,” Neil nodded. “Not a good man, not even slightly, but not as evil as some people are either.”  
  
Sarah almost smiled. “How are we in the position of almost admiring a man we put in jail for life and having my sister come out second best?” she asked wryly, making her husband laugh silently.  
  
“We live a strange life in a stranger place,” he responded with a grin.  
  
“Seems that way.” A moment later, the back door opened and closed again, Mike joining them in the kitchen. He moved past them without a word, yanked open the fridge, and pulled out another can of beer. Sarah neatly plucked it out of his hand as he walked past heading for the living room again.  
  
“No. You can have this when we’re done. You need a clear head.”  
  
“Hey!” he exclaimed with annoyance, reaching for the can. She held it out of range and fixed him with a hard look, causing him to eventually look away. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”  
  
“’ _This_ ’ is something important, Mike. It’s not choosing a new car. Amy’s a six year old girl who we have to do right by,” she snapped.  
  
“She’s Marquis’s kid...” he began, only to close his mouth abruptly as she glared at him.  
  
“ _Six_ … _Years… Old..._ ” she grated. “Don’t be an ass. Who her father was is irrelevant.”  
  
He shrugged and walked into the living room. She slammed the beer down on the kitchen counter and followed, fuming to herself, with Neil behind her. When they’d all sat down again, she looked around.  
  
“All right. Let’s go over it _again,_ shall we? Amy is not happy, for reasons we’ve learned recently and discussed _a lot_ tonight. I don’t see any feasible way to change that if things stay the same. Carol is… doing her best.” Which was blatantly untrue in many ways but she _really_ didn’t want to get into that yet again… “We made a promise, possibly one that we shouldn’t have made, but at the time we didn’t really have a choice and looking back on it I don’t see what we could honestly have done differently. Regardless, we can’t change the past, but we _can_ change the future. We _have_ to do right by that girl. Leaving aside our own actions, it’s the humane thing to do anyway, the same thing we’d hopefully do for _any_ child.”  
  
No one said anything when she fell silent, although both Mark and Neil nodded, while Jess sighed a little. Carol was still sitting with her arms folded in petulant annoyance, making Sarah feel that for a mid-thirties professional lawyer and superhero she was acting more like a child than Amy did. It was embarrassing. And Mike was just lounging in his chair listening with an expression that showed a near-total lack of interest at the moment.  
  
“Leaving aside the oddities around how Amy keeps ending up at the Hebert house for the moment,” she went on after a while, “there’s no denying the fact that their own daughter may well have saved Amy’s life that day. She was in that park, alone, underdressed for the weather, and hungry, for nearly _eighteen hours!_ And it was nearly _six_ hours before we even knew she was missing!” With a deliberate effort, she lowered her voice as it had been getting louder once more. Carol shifted in her chair, not meeting her eyes.  
  
“God only knows what might have happened if Taylor hadn’t found her and taken her home. This city is not kind to innocents, we all know that far too well,” she said, looking around the table. “We got very, very lucky, as did Amy. And we got more lucky that the Heberts called _us_ rather than the cops. We all know that if the police and the PRT ever really started digging into everything with the aim of causing trouble, they’d find things we’d prefer they didn’t. Things that should really stay buried for everyone’s sake.”  
  
She took a breath, and continued, “The New Wave movement is all about accountability, and I realize we’re all being a bit hypocritical about this in a sense, but at the same time no good for _anyone_ would come from official attention. _Especially_ for poor Amy. If people found out she was Marquis’s daughter...” She shook her head. “I fear what might come of that. There are far too many people with an ax to grind where he’s concerned and I’m certain she’d get caught in the backlash, as would we.”  
  
“So the solution is just to give her away to some people we have no idea about other than there’s something _very_ strange going on with them?” Carol snapped. “Brilliant idea. Nothing can possibly go wrong.”  
  
Sarah glared at her. “I think that we have a chance, possibly the only _real_ chance, to have things work out in a way that benefits everyone, despite how you put it. Taylor clearly adores Amy, and the feeling is just as clearly mutual. The Heberts are a good family, and love their daughter. I have zero doubt they’d love Amy just as much, which to be honest is part of the problem we’re having _right now_ , isn’t it?”  
  
Her sister glared back and went red, but didn’t manage to say anything before Sarah overrode it by resuming, “They’ve offered something that for one reason or another we can’t provide. Thinking just of Amy, it’s obviously the best choice in my opinion. And it prevents all sorts of potential problems for _us_ too.”  
  
“Personally, while I don’t like to admit we failed, I think Sarah’s right, Carol,” Mark commented with a calm voice, causing his wife to look at him. “Amy isn’t happy, we both know it. I’m not blaming anyone, but I think we need to consider her best interests. Vicky can still see her, they seem fine with that and even offered from what I understand, and it would put the girl into a much better environment. And take a lot of stress off you.”  
  
“We don’t know anything about these people, that’s the part I have trouble with,” Mike put in, again interrupting whatever Carol had been about to say and making her sigh heavily. “You said yourself that something weird happened the last time when that old woman turned up. Not to mention whatever the fuck is going on with the kid. Or whoever else is somehow getting Amy over there in the middle of the night. You’re _sure_ there’s no Parahuman power involved because I can’t see any other fucking possibility.”  
  
Sarah suppressed an urge to kick her brother in the shin, the same urge she’d been having since she was about ten and one that she was too old to pander to as much as she’d like to. Or as much as he often deserved it. With a shake of her head, she replied, “As far as I can determine none of the Heberts are Parahumans. Obviously I can’t guarantee it, but I know what to look for and I didn’t see any of it. I’ll admit I have no idea how Amy ends up over there unless it’s magic or something but does that actually really matter at this point?” She spread her hands and smiled a little. “We won’t need to worry about it if we do this.”  
  
“And that old woman? She paralyzed Carol or something for god’s sake! How can that not be a power at work?” he insisted, leaning forward.  
  
“I don’t know how she did that,” Sarah sighed. “I honestly have no idea, except that somehow I don’t think it was a Parahuman ability at all. What it _was.._ ” She shook her head. “Not a clue. But I do very much believe that Mal is not someone we want to upset. For that matter, I’d suggest that neither Annette or Danny Hebert are either, just based on things I’ve dug up on them.”  
  
“Like the fact that Annette Hebert used to be one of Lustrum’s minions?” he asked snidely, making her pause, then sigh.  
  
“How did you find that out?” she asked as Carol stared at their brother, then her, her face going dark with anger.  
  
“You’re not the only one with contacts in the BBPD,” he replied with a smirk. “I checked. Yeah, she was one of Lustrum’s girls. The same Lustrum who’s in the Birdcage.”  
  
“I’m aware of that, thank you,” Sarah said with a sigh. “Did your contact tell you that she left before Lustrum started getting excessive, and that it was her husband who helped her get out? She’s not a villain, Mike. She was only a woman who was taken in by someone who turned out to be more trouble than anyone expected at the time. Believe me, at the beginning it wasn’t like it ended up.”  
  
“She was a minion of a villain?” Carol demanded.  
  
Sarah put her hand on her face and squeezed gently. “She was a member of a feminist movement and left before the leader of that movement was branded a villain, Carol,” she replied patiently. “If you call that a crime, there are about two hundred other women who are also criminals. I might have been one myself at one point if things had gone differently.” Lowering her hand, she looked at her sister, who was staring at her in shock. “Lustrum had some valid points in the early days,” she added.  
  
The other woman stared for a moment longer, then looked away. “Fine. Whatever. I still think there’s something very odd with that family.”  
  
“Oh, I agree there, yes,” Sarah replied. “Very odd indeed. But not something criminal. Just… weird. That’s not illegal, _especially_ in Brockton Bay. We specialize in weird around these parts.”  
  
Jess giggled, making Sarah smile at her. “Truer words have never been spoken,” the younger woman said.  
  
“Indeed. This city is an absolute magnet for strange things. Some of the things I’ve heard about in the docks...” Sarah shook her head. “Not important.”  
  
“Strange?” Carol looked obstinate. “That woman did something, then offered a deal, and a… a… _boon_ as she put it. Who _does_ that? It’s like a fairy tale or something. What could she actually do for us?”  
  
“I have no idea, but I sure wouldn’t say that to her face, Carol,” Sarah warned. “I don’t know who she is really but I get a _very_ strong impression that it was be a horribly stupid idea to underestimate her. And considering that you nearly started something right in their living room, she wasn’t out of line doing whatever it was she did. On the whole her reaction was quite restrained, thinking back on it.”  
  
“I don’t like her. Or trust her.”  
  
“Tough. You don’t need to like _or_ trust her, since it’s basically Annette and Danny we need to deal with.” Sarah shrugged a little. “But I’d be polite to her just in case even so.”  
  
“Did you try finding out more about this Mal woman?” Mark asked.  
  
“Yes.” Sarah nodded. “It’s difficult. There are very few people who seem to know anything about her as far as I can tell. Not surprising in a way, since I think from her accent that she’d not local. She said she flew in, and that may have been from Europe. I don’t really know anyone over there who I could ask.”  
  
“I know someone who might have some contacts that could help,” Neil said, causing them to look at him. “He knows a lot of people all over the place and is a good source of information.”  
  
“Who?” Carol asked, looking slightly curious.  
  
He smiled mysteriously and pulled his phone out, unlocking it and quickly working the keyboard, the device looking comically small in his enormous hands, until he found the contact he was looking for. “Let’s see if he can help,” he said, pressing the dial button, then putting the phone on speaker and placing it on the table.  
  
A ringing tone sounded a few times, then a man’s voice said, “Hello, Manpower. It’s been a while.” The voice sounded familiar to Sarah but she couldn’t immediately place it.  
  
“Hi Myrrdin,” Neil replied, making several pairs of eyes widen. Carol’s rolled, as she felt the self-styled ‘wizard’ was a deluded fool, his power aside. They hadn’t got on very well on the times they’d met, the last of which was in Boston about eighteen months ago. “How’s it going?”  
  
“Not bad at the moment,” the other man said. “Took down a couple of major players in Chicago last week which made everyone pretty happy. Not quite as major as Marquis, I’ll admit, but big enough.” He sounded in a good mood. “But I doubt you called to find out what our success rate was. How can I help?”  
  
“You’ve got quite the contact list,” Neil remarked. “We’re trying to find someone who could get some background data on a person we’ve come into contact with. We suspect she’s from Europe for various reasons, and can’t really dig up anything on her locally.”  
  
“Ah. A villain?” His voice was curious now.  
  
“No, or not that we know about. More along the lines of a business deal. We just wanted to know more about her.”  
  
“Fair enough. Got a name? I might recognize it, but even if not I could ask around.”  
  
“Yeah. Mal Linwood.”  
  
There was a very long pause.  
  
“Did you just say Mal Linwood?” Myrrdin asked carefully, like he wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly.  
  
“I did, yes.”  
  
Another pause, then the other man muttered something under his breath too faintly for the phone to pick it up. More loudly he said, “Listen to me, Neil. Listen to me very, very carefully. I would strongly advise that you walk away. She is not someone you want to enter into business with if you can avoid it.”  
  
Sarah’s husband looked at her in surprise, then down at the phone. “ _Is_ she a criminal?” he asked, startled. “Now I’m getting worried.”  
  
“You should be. No, she’s not a criminal. She’s much more dangerous than that.” Myrrdin seemed to swallow if the sound was accurate, then asked, “How did you happen to meet?”  
  
“It’s somewhat complicated,” Sarah cut in. “Hello, Myrrdin, this is Sarah Pelham. For various reasons we happened to meet her daughter and things have become a little involved since Mal turned up.”  
  
“Her _daughter?_ ” The man sounded shocked. “Oh, god. I didn’t know her daughter lived in Brockton Bay.” Then he laughed ruefully. “Mind you if I had to guess, I couldn’t think of anywhere else it could possibly be. And you actually _met_ Mal? Face to face?”  
  
“We did. She’s… memorable.”  
  
“You have no _idea…_ ” he muttered.  
  
“We have a small problem she’s offered to help with,” Sarah added, “In fact it was her idea how to solve it. She offered us a deal and we were debating whether to accept.”  
  
“A deal. With Mal Linwood.” She got the distinct impression he was trying not to scream. “Next you’ll tell me she offered you a boon.”  
  
“She did, actually. In that exact wording.”  
  
“Fuck.”  
  
Everyone exchanged glances, even Carol and Mike now looking confused and curious. Eventually, he said, “Well, it’s too late to walk away. If she’s that interested, you’ll only insult her, and you really don’t want to insult Mal. Never ends well. About the only thing you could do that’s worse is threaten her or something.” He laughed nervously.  
  
No one said anything.  
  
Myrrdin groaned.  
  
“Oh, hell, you didn’t...”  
  
“Carol… may have been slightly upset,” Sarah began.  
  
“Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. I can only assume that you guys have either the best luck or the worst luck in the world.” He sighed faintly. “OK. Look, I honestly can’t tell you everything. Not won’t, _can’t_. It would be… bad.”  
  
“Bad?” she echoed.  
  
“Bad. Don’t push it. Forget I said anything, in fact. Let’s just concentrate on your problem, and believe me, you have one.” He took a breath, clearly audible to them. “You’ve managed to get mixed up in things you really shouldn’t, but it’s too late now, you have her interest and all you can do is hope it works out. Whatever this deal is, accept it, take the boon, and this part is absolutely _critical,_ _do not_ under _any_ circumstances deliberately offend her. Be as polite as you’ve ever been in your life. Stick to the terms of the deal, don’t deviate, don’t try to get clever and alter anything, don’t give her any cause at all to decide that you weren’t honest, and with any luck it will work out. She must be in a good mood or we probably wouldn’t be having this conversation.”  
  
“Who the hell _is_ this woman?” Carol demanded.  
  
“Carol, I assume?” he asked. “She’s fucking bad news if you piss her off, I can tell you that much. You haven’t got the faintest idea _how much_ bad news and you wouldn’t believe me if I _could_ tell you. On the other hand, get on her good side and you’ve got an ally like you wouldn’t believe. That’s not easy, though. Ideally you want to conclude whatever business you have with her and walk away, then pray you never cross paths again.”  
  
“Is she a Parahuman of some sort?” Neil asked. “Do the PRT know about her?”  
  
“No she’s not a Parahuman, but I can’t say anything more about that,” Myrrdin replied after a moment or two. “The PRT higher-ups have _nightmares_ about her and her kind. They’d shit the bed like nothing you’d ever seen if they knew she was in Brockton Bay. Or that her _daughter_ lived there… Jesus, I can’t believe that. Yet another reason never to come to your city.”  
  
They all exchanged looks again. He sounded genuinely scared, which was extremely odd and more than a little worrying.  
  
“Thank you for the information,” Neil finally said when it appeared nothing more was forthcoming.  
  
“I hope it helps,” Myrrdin replied. “And for god’s sake, please don’t mention my name to her. I really don’t want any trouble from that direction. Good luck, all of you.” Sarah almost thought he added “You’re going to need it,” under his breath before he hung up, but she decided she was probably imagining it.  
  
When Neil had put his phone back in his pocket, the room was silent, until Jess said brightly, “That was weird.”  
  
Sarah looked at her, then rubbed her forehead as Carol instantly started complaining. She could tell this was going to be a long evening.  
  
 **=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=**  
  
“Psst! Amy!”  
  
Amy’s eyes snapped open, then she rolled over and looked at the floor, grinning when she saw Taylor smiling back up at her, her head sticking out from under her bed.  
  
“Hi, Taylor,” she said happily.  
  
“Bob told me that he heard from Gary, the monster in your mom’s dryer, that your aunt Sarah and the other guys finally decided that Granny Mallie is right. You’re going to come live with me! I thought you’d want to know.”  
  
“Really?” Amy clapped her hands over her mouth to stifle the squeak of joy. “You’re not joking?”  
  
“Nope! Bob’s sure about it. And Bob’s a nice monster, he wouldn’t lie.” Taylor looked at the door when both girls heard a sound outside it. “Oops. Gotta go, see you tomorrow. Bye!” She stuck a hand out and waved, then vanished under the bed again. Amy quickly rolled over away from the door and closed her eyes.  
  
“Shh! Frank, be quiet! Yes, you can come too, of _course_ Amy wouldn’t leave you behind. You’re _her_ monster.”  
  
The faint voice faded into the distance. By the time her babysitter opened the door and peered in, somewhat suspiciously inspecting the darkened room, it was completely silent aside from quiet breathing come from the small girl on the bed.  
  
Who was wearing a wide smile even as she fell asleep again.


	5. A Small Courtesy

_ A small chapter to finish off the beginning and start the next part... ;) _

* * *

  
Coming awake, the man listened carefully, feeling that something was wrong. Or at least different, which in this place was more or less synonymous. Thirty seconds or so slipped past without him hearing anything threatening.  
  
Another few seconds, and he frowned slightly. It had taken a while, but he realized that he couldn’t hear _anything_. None of the normal subliminal sounds were present. No noise of the ventilation working, none of the faint vibrations showing active machinery buried somewhere in the walls, no sounds to even indicate that he wasn’t completely alone. Which was… very wrong. He shared this place with quite a few other people, after all, but for all he could sense he was utterly isolated.  
  
Opening his eyes Marquis looked around without moving or indicating that he was conscious. His cell was dark as it was on the night cycle, which he was pretty sure bore no relationship to the actual time of day outside the Birdcage, as another method to confuse the residents of the facility. His own experiments using his heartbeat as a crude timer suggested that the day wasn’t even set to twenty four hours, it was closer to twenty six, for some reason he’d never worked out.  
  
The only light in his cell was coming from a small red LED on the camera mounted above the closed door, the faint glimmer just bright enough to let him see the unblinking gaze of the wide angle lens set behind an inch of some sort of ultra-hard Tinker version of glass, when he turned his head to scan the small room. The corners of the cell were completely dark, leaving him unable to penetrate the deep shadows at all.  
  
Still, he could see nothing amiss, but he couldn’t hear _any_ signs of normal operation either, as barely perceptible as they usually were at night. Some of the other prisoners didn’t sleep at all, and others slept little, so there was usually at least a small level of background noise coming from elsewhere. But now, there was no sound of people talking, or even breathing, not even the dripping of condensation from the slightly faulty air conditioning system in the corridor outside that hadn’t yet been repaired by the automatic systems.  
  
It was downright unsettling to be somewhere _this_ quiet, and it was setting him on edge. Something was going on, something he didn’t understand, and considering who he shared this place with, that was likely to be potentially very bad.  
  
Slowly sitting up, he swung his legs to the floor while brushing his long hair back over his shoulders, then listened intently some more, straining to hear _anything_ that might give a clue to what was happening and who was responsible.  
  
He froze as the mattress depressed slightly, as if someone had sat down at the other end of the bed. Which was highly unlikely since the door was shut and locked by the system, the anti-Stranger alarms were silent, and he couldn’t think of any other Parahuman in the Birdcage who could bypass both without it being fairly obvious. He was sufficiently paranoid to have checked very carefully when he first got here, and kept up to date on new arrivals.  
  
Turning his head very slowly, he looked to the left.  
  
The dim tally light on the camera was barely able to allow him to see someone he’d never thought he’d see again, and was more than a little disturbed to see _now_. Although, it did explain why there was no sound and how someone had got into his cell…  
  
“Hello, Adrian,” Mal Linwood said completely calmly as if she’d popped around for coffee. “It has been some time.”  
  
Despite himself, he swallowed a little, his throat drier than he liked, before replying as evenly and politely as he could, not even daring to contemplate using his powers, “Hello, Mal. Yes, it has. I’m sorry I can’t offer you a drink but I find myself somewhat embarrassingly diminished from my previous circumstances.”  
  
She smiled a little, looking briefly amused, and he relaxed ever so little. Perhaps she wasn’t here to end him?  
  
“Yes, the accommodations are somewhat… spartan,” she remarked, glancing around then looking back at him. “I appreciate the thought though.”  
  
He dipped his head to acknowledge her comment. “May I ask what prompted this visit?” he asked carefully. “I am… a little surprised to see you, as I was unaware that we had any reason to meet again. Especially in such a manner.” Marquis was deliberately controlling his breathing to keep himself calm, just in case.  
  
“There are no outstanding issues, no,” Mal smiled. “This is more in the nature of a courtesy visit due to certain external circumstances.” Standing, she moved to a position in front of him and snapped her fingers, a pale ball of misty blue light appearing near the ceiling and making him blink slightly in the suddenly increased illumination. It was still quite dim but he could now see her properly. As always, the sight was both impressive and more than a little terrifying. At least she was smiling, although he knew from experience that she was at times most dangerous when that happened…  
  
“May I ask what those circumstances might be?” he inquired, wondering what she meant.  
  
“Yes,” she replied, looking down at him. “It is in regard to your daughter.”  
  
His heart nearly stopped for a moment. “Amelia?”  
  
“Indeed.” Mal studied him. “Ah. Yes, you do care for her well-being, I see. I am glad of this.”  
  
“She is my only daughter,” he replied as calmly as he could. “I care for her well-being a great deal and regret that I can’t personally see to it. But I made arrangements that I hoped would keep her safe and well, despite my… inconvenient problem.”  
  
Smiling a little again, she nodded. “So I gather. You might be interested to know that Amelia was placed with Brandish’s family.”  
  
He raised an eyebrow, unable to help it. “I would have expected the Lady Photon’s, in fact. She struck me as the more… flexible… sister.”  
  
“I would tend to agree with you, but that was ultimately not how they decided to arrange matters.” Mal almost sighed, surprising him, since she actually looked momentarily regretful. “It is unfortunate, as it happens, since Brandish turned out not to be ideally suited for the responsibility. I suspect in part due to her antipathy to you personally, and in part due to her outlook on life which is rather more rigid than one might hope for. The latter is likely to cause her problems eventually.”  
  
Marquis thought that she almost looked amused again, and hid a shiver. He abruptly decided that despite what Brandish had helped cause to happen to him, he pitied her fate if Mal became sufficiently upset with whatever had happened.  
  
“Is Amelia well?” he asked, not feeling it was wise to mention his thoughts, although he was sure she was well aware of them regardless.  
  
“She has not enjoyed much of the last year but she is physically fine, never fear,” Mal assured him. “Brandish was not a particularly good mother to her but she did not strike her. And the girl did become quite close to Brandish’s biological daughter, which I imagine helped.” She paused, then smiled a little. “However matters came to a head a few weeks ago when Amelia was sufficiently upset that she absconded from her new home, and managed to get herself thoroughly lost in a park some kilometers away from there overnight.”  
  
He clenched one hand, then deliberately relaxed it, while she watched. “But she is unharmed,” he said.  
  
“Yes. She was found by another girl of similar age, who offered her food, clothing, and friendship, then took her home. While Amelia did not enjoy the experience she has found a firm friend and benefited from the relationship considerably in the weeks since.”  
  
“I see,” he said, nodding. “This other girl, she is known to you?”  
  
“My granddaughter,” Mal replied with a devious smile. He stared at her for several seconds, then sighed faintly.  
  
“How… unexpected.”  
  
“It was rather unusual, but then such runs in the family,” she agreed, now definitely amused, and if he was any judge, quite pleased. “One thing led to another and young Taylor decided that Amelia was unhappy, so she set about changing that. By admittedly somewhat unconventional means, but it appears to have had the desired effect.”  
  
They looked at each other for a moment.  
  
“There’s more to the story, I suspect,” he commented when the silence became a little uncomfortable, although she looked like she was quite prepared to stand there the rest of the night watching him.  
  
“Oh, far more, yes,” she smiled. “However, the key aspect is that after consideration of the particulars of Amelia’s circumstances, my daughter and her husband decided with a little suggestion from myself that it would be best all around if they took charge of the girl’s upbringing. I feel they can do a much better job, give her a far more _interesting_ and rewarding life, and relieve Brandish of a burden she clearly didn’t want. Lady Photon and her siblings and families ultimately agreed with this proposal.”  
  
She waved a hand in a gesture of satisfaction while he sat there and tried not to let his mouth fall open. “I appear to have another granddaughter, in a sense, which is enjoyable. It will be quite the experience teaching her, although I will let my daughter and her husband do the bulk of that as I do after all have other responsibilities.”  
  
Turning and walking across the cell while he stared, trying to work out whether to laugh, cry, or both, she reached up and tapped the camera idly with one elegant finger, before turning back to him. “I felt it was only polite, in light of our past interaction and the knowledge that in a _very_ distant way you could be considered related now, to inform you of this. Rest assured that Amelia will be loved and cherished, and protected from those that might wish her harm.” She looked thoughtful for a second. “Which reminds me that I have a modicum of business with at least one of those parties, but that is hardly relevant at the moment.”  
  
“Ah…” He took a breath, then said, “Thank you for telling me. If I might ask a very small favor with no intent to cause offense, could you please pass on my best wishes to my daughter when you deem it appropriate?”  
  
She sat down beside him again, looking at him with eyes that were much too knowing and far, far too old, seeming to look into the center of his being, then nodded once. “I will do that, Adrian. When the time is right, after she has some stability in her life and is capable of understanding the truth of the matter.”  
  
“Thank you,” he said quietly.  
  
Standing again, she studied him as he looked up at her. “We may meet again, but the future is never entirely certain,” she remarked after a little while. “But I can say with some assurance that your daughter has great potential, which may be of comfort to you.”  
  
“It is,” Marquis replied honestly.  
  
“And it is not beyond the bounds of possibility that one day you may meet her yourself,” she added with a smile, as she snapped her fingers again. The little ball of foxfire winked out, making him blink at the sudden lack of light. When his eyes became accustomed to the dark once more he looked around, seeing without surprise he was entirely alone again. The normal sounds of the Birdcage came back as if they’d never gone, and he was certain that the camera in his cell would have shown nothing of his unexpected visitor.  
  
After sitting there for a couple of minutes in deep thought, he finally lay down again and closed his eyes. He fell asleep to a sensation of mixed regret, satisfaction, and slight worry.  
  
And the thought that Amelia was certainly as safe from Allfather’s ire as anyone could possibly be.  
  
 **=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=**  
  
“I think you’ve probably had enough,” the barman said. “That’s four shots in a row.”  
  
His customer grabbed his wrist as he reached for the bottle. “Leave it,” the bearded man said, slightly slurring his words.  
  
Shrugging, the barman let go and retrieved his arm. “Your funeral, mate. You want a mug to go with it or are you just going to keep doing shots?” he added sarcastically. “Or maybe you need a straw.”  
  
“Piss off,” the older man said with a frown, making him chuckle then move down the bar to deal with a less annoying customer.  
  
Pouring himself another small glass of the very potent spirits, Evan tossed it straight down his throat without hesitation, then swallowed. He put the glass back on the bar top with the carefully deliberate motion of someone who knew he was on the verge of being properly drunk and filled it once more.  
  
“Mal Linwood,” he muttered very quietly to himself under his breath, before swigging the next shot and picking up the bottle again. “Christ on a raft. Chicago is _way_ too fucking close to Brockton Bay. Maybe I should move to Anchorage...”  
  
“Not far enough,” a voice from next to him said with amusement, causing him to jerk around and nearly fall off his stool.  
  
“What?” he asked, looking suspiciously at the young woman he’d never seen before who was standing there. She was tall and slender, and wearing a leather jacket over jeans and a t-shirt with some sort of golden logo on it that he couldn’t quite focus on.  
  
She indicated his glass, and the bottle he was holding ready to pour. “You’re not holding it far enough over the glass,” she replied, causing him to look, then barely avoid spilling his drink. “Sorry. Bad habit of mine, giving people advice out of the blue.”  
  
“Thanks,” he muttered, very carefully topping his shot off. Was that the sixth or the seventh? He’d lost count.  
  
“No problem.” He saw her smile out of the corner of his eye.  
  
“Here you go, Miss,” the barman said as he handed her some cash. “Your change.”  
  
“Great.” She turned to leave. “See you around.” Myrrdin glanced at her, then looked back at his glass, before doing a double take and turning back, only to see she’d already left.  
  
‘ _Did that woman have a tail?_ ’ he thought blurrily. ‘ _Nah. Must have imagined it...’_ He tossed back the next shot, then tried to refill the glass again, without complete success.  
  
“Poor bastards,” he mumbled under his breath, while doing his best not to spill too much of his memory eraser. “Note to self, never go to Brockton Bay...”  
  
He was pretty sure he’d manage to remember at least _that_ much.


End file.
